Monday, December 30, 2013

So,
as you’re looking at this you’re probably wondering a couple of things:

1) Why is this year’s
RT20 so short? And why are there no pithy comments with each album and single?

2) How come you didn’t
mail it this year?

3) Most importantly,
what do you mean probably final?!??

Let
me answer them point by point.

1) My ability to write
lengthy copy like I did 5 to 10 years ago has seemingly disappeared. It could
be the fact that I wrote close to 4000 items that were 125 words or less for my
day job this year and that has robbed me of the brain muscle to go much further
beyond that length. Or it could be used up all my creative juices editing (and
then promoting) Fan Interference, the baseball book I co-edited with
my friend Mike Faloon. We spent a
lot of brain power in the late winter and early spring finalizing the manuscript.
Then we spent a healthy portion of our summer getting the word out about the
book. It was totally awesome to see this project finally come out after years
of working on it and meeting great people in virtually every town where we did
a reading. But I have to admit it was very taxing mentally and physically. (I
tore the meniscus in my left knee in the spring, so that added to the physical
and mental stress.)

2) The amount of
mailing I did for Fan Interference
and both issues of Zisk, the baseball zine that inspired the book,
probably put enough money in the coffers of the US Postal Service to delay a
first class stamp increase until early next year. (The piles of receipts I collected
filled up two legal size envelopes.) There was no way I was going to mail 100
plus copies of anything in December.
I’d rather mail myself to Florida
(still number-one on my list of worst states in the union, 24 years running!) than
go through that.

3) I touched upon it in
last year’s list--I found myself listening to more and more podcasts and less
new music. That trend continued this year. The albums I enjoyed (say anything
from number-four on down on this year’s Top 20) I probably listened to three to four times at the most. (The
top three got many, many more listens than that.) I found people discussing
their lives, career, their fictional lives, telling engrossing stories or
reacting to bizarre video clips infinitely more engaging to me than hearing
almost anyone’s album.

Now
that could always change in 2014. It would be the 25th edition of this list,
and that might be the best time to send off this project that has consumed each
late fall for more than half of my life. And I’m a sucker for acknowledging a
big anniversary (which you well know if you were a reader in 1999, 2004 or
2009).

Oh,
and there was one more reason why I just didn’t feel compelled to write down my
music and pop culture rantings--I read too many crappy examples of music and pop
culture writings this year. A good 40-percent of these types of stories I came
across were lists. I mean, once a year is fine for a doing a list. But doing it
over and over and over again just to get quick page views? Blergh. It makes me
want to completely unplug from the Internet for a long while and just read that
900 page Beatles book that’s been looking at me from my desk at the home
office. Heck, that still might happen in January (well, except for when I have
to work, I suppose).

I
could point you to a ton of “listicles” that have sucked my soul clean, but I’d
rather direct you to an article that offended not only my creative side but offended
the way I approach my job as well. It ran, sadly, on the Village Voice’s website, ending any pretense that the one great
paper was worth pay attention to anymore. The piece was titled “I Pissed Off Megadeth, My (Former) Favorite Band.” Click here to read it. I’ll wait at the
next paragraph.

In
case you didn’t read it, let me sum it up -- the author talks about their love
of the band, gets the assignment to preview the band’s upcoming show, isn’t
able to schedule an interview until two days before the show and then laments
the fact that he has less than 24 hours to prepare for it, cancels, then
reschedules, then gets miffed when the bass player calls at the original time
allotted for the interview the next day and then basically calls out the band’s
publicist. It’s rare that I’ve wanted to punch someone for what they’ve
written, but the fucking gall of this guy overwhelmed me with anger. If you
can’t prep for a 15 minute phoner with a band you’ve loved all your life, you
probably shouldn’t be writing about fucking music. After reading it I thought, “Why
bother even doing this any more?” If this asshole can get paid (not much, I’m
certain) for writing such a bullshit “me me me” piece, then I don’t want to
bother any more. I mean, that article was posted in September and here we are
in late December and I’m still getting violently angry.

(Pardon
me. I need to go cool down for a second.)

(Okay,
this iced tea is making things better.)

I
took the title for this essay from the opening line to Superchunk’s “Me & You & Jackie Mittoo.” The next part of
the line is, “Can’t bring anyone back to this earth.” That combo sounds as if
it would be a total downer, but it’s not. It’s a song that somehow captures
deep loss, wonderful memories of youth and how we process music as middle aged
adults – all in the space of two minutes. It’s simply amazing. And the rest of
the album lives up to that song’s high water mark. Many of the tracks on I Hate Music were inspired by the death
in 2012 of a close friend of the band. I can’t imagine a greater tribute to a
dear friend than this piece of work. It’s a high point in Superchunk’s career, which is
stunning to think they’ve been around for almost 25 years.

Fan Interference wouldn’t have been
published without some Kickstarter support, and that trend of people getting
involving on the ground floor of a project is pretty exhilarating. My friends
in The Gravel Pit used Pledge Music
to pay for their new album (the first in 13 years) that’s due out in early
2014. I felt so honored to be able to give the band some cash to support their
art. I felt the same way when Bill Janovitz
of Buffalo Tom announced he was
doing a solo project in 2012 and accepted donations to help fund the project
(which later turned into a full Pledge Music campaign). He posted demos with
lengthy notes about each as he was working on Walt Whitman Mall, and it was fascinating to be able to hear this
project take shape as Janovitz crafted a loose concept about his youth in Long Island. It’s some of the best songwriting in his
career, which isn’t too bad for a guy whose first album was released over 25 years
ago.

Superchunk
and Bill Janovitz gave me hope that people of my age will continue to figure
out a way to age gracefully through their music. Neil Young and Bob Dylan
found ways to make compelling, adult-minded albums in their mid-40 through
mid-50s (and beyond), so it can be done. Perhaps I can figure out a way to have
this list age gracefully as well. Maybe I’ll start selling it in a Starbucks?

One more note: if you’re really
interested in hearing my specific take on one or any of these albums, songs or
reissues (or need to know why a Katy
Perry single is in the Top 10) email me. I’ll probably be able to dash off a
quick reason you should purchase one of them. But give them a listen yourself.
There’s a reason they’re on this list--I like them and they’re worth owning.
Have I steered you wrong before? (Okay, don’t answer that.)

Other good stuff from
’13:
“I’d like to order pancakes for the table,” Nightingale 9’s opening night, heavy
metal BBQ, covering “Cut Your Hair” at a wedding, Seinfeld in the booth with
Gary, Keith and Ron, The World’s End,
Premier League on NBCSN, the return of Keith Olbermann to ESPN, Okkervil
River’s cover of “Give Me the Night.”